


Crisis

by krocanpy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Backstory, Canon Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7550707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krocanpy/pseuds/krocanpy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurapika realizes the truth about his blood-ridden past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crisis

Kurapika found himself in a field of flowers and stared up at the sun setting, wondering if there ever was a scene as beautiful as this. He broke his thought when he looked beside him, as he saw the lifeless body of his friend Pairo, drenched in blood. He put his hand on Pairo’s wrist to check a pulse, but there was none, and his hands were now stained a hideous shade of crimson. His vision blurred as his head seemed to spin, as he thought that this couldn’t be his reality. But it was very, very real.

Kurapika jerked awake suddenly. He stared down at his hands as confirmation that it was just a dream, and found his hands unstained. He knew these events had all been real at some point in time, and wished he wouldn’t keep reliving them in his dreams. The Phantom Troupe would soon enough die by his own hands when the time presented itself.

For now, he decided to continue with his daily routine. He rolled a blunt, a Kurta tradition he remembered fondly. Even to this day, marijuana felt highly connected to his memories as a Kurta, as they lived off of forest materials. Kurapika would later discover that this was unsafe for his health, but had already been hooked by the time. It became a means of self medicating, and reviving old, sacred memories of his clan. As he smoked it, he felt a familiar burning sensation in his throat, and he sat there thinking about what family meant to him now.

Kurapika stared out the window into the blinding sun of Yorknew. He had been summoned by Hisoka to gather information he had about the Troupe, and took up the offer more than willingly. There was a slight pain in his chest thinking about what he may be capable of in the midst of his anger, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled about becoming a murderer of sorts, but was willing to kill to avenge his clan. He briefly saw his scarlet eyes reflecting in the glass of the window, and decided to give the matter less thought. But then his phone rang, as Hisoka had sent him a text message.

It read, “I know their hideout. Seek the truth, it’s waiting for you there. ♣” It then listed a particular address, that he’d later pinpoint to an abandoned building.

~

Kurapika had taken all necessary precautions to avoid being detected by anyone in the Troupe, using a combination of concealment nen techniques, as well as strategic methods he had mapped out. When he walked in, all eyes were on him despite all of this. “We’ve been waiting for you,” a man with black hair had said with a sly grin. Hisoka had been sitting there as well, and Kurapika knew this whole thing must’ve been a trap.

“The Phantom Troupe…” Kurapika muttered.

“So you’ve heard of us? I’m impressed. But you don’t know nearly enough about us.” The man had said.

“What do you know?”

“I know someone like you when I come across them. The pattern fits. You’re upset we don’t support your ideals.”

“Ideals? Like what, not murdering others? You’re disgusting.”

“Me? A murderer? I suppose people like you like making up titles.” He paused. “It’s about time we discussed a few things. My name is Chrollo, take a seat and we can talk about this at length.”

“I’m not looking for discussion, I’m looking for revenge.” Kurapika said, as Chrollo was sitting down, looking perplexed.

“What exactly do you think we did, anyway?”

“Do you remember the Kurta clan?”

“I… remember that one quite well. Don’t tell me you didn’t…” Chrollo seemed surprised. “You really don’t know anything, then…”

“Don’t give me that! What do you know? Do you know how much suffering you’ve caused me?”

“Sit down.”

“No.” Chrollo smirked at the blonde’s response. He stood up and kept his eyes locked onto the Kurta.

“Your dad told you nothing, right? We thought you were missing, but here you are.”

“Missing? My dad?”

“I have a very, very long story you may want to hear.”

“How do I know anything you say is true? Who would believe a murderer?”

“You can verify it afterwards,” Chrollo had said. Kurapika sat down reluctantly. “You know… we don’t know much about your case. But we’ll tell you what we can. First… know that the Phantom Troupe is only a nickname for us. We’re actually part of a larger organization.”

“And that would be what?”

“Ever heard of Anti-Drug Troupe? We’re part of that. We received a phone call one day about a report of a father who created a whole village himself, founded on smoking marijuana. We came to put a stop to it, and the man is now imprisoned. It was said that he forced these habits onto his son, but we never found one.”

“Created a village? That’s bullshit. The Kurta clan was created over the course of—“ Chrollo was now close to Kurapika’s face. He leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“Did you know Nen has the ability to create a village like yours?” Kurapika’s face cringed at the thought, but tried to make sense of it all.

“Where’s my dad? Who is he?”

“His name… is Morel.” 

~

Kurapika had done some hunter research through their database to find out the whereabouts of a hunter by the name of Morel. He found out he was a single-star sea hunter, and he carried around a large pipe. Could his nen really be founded off of Kurta weed? Kurapika was afraid to know the answer. He began thinking about whether it’d be harder to accept the fake village story than mass genocide. But it couldn’t be true, it was all too odd, wasn’t it? He would have to ask Morel himself to confirm. 

The problem was Morel’s location. The Troupe’s story matched up, as Morel had been captured and imprisoned around the time of the Kurta massacre. He had requested a meeting a few days prior, and officially was able to speak with his supposed father. A guard opened the door, and led him into a room divided by glass. On the other side was Morel. “Oh no…” he mumbled. 

“You’re my dad?”

“Oh shit, hey son.” Morel said.

“Tell me what you know.” Kurapika asserted rather aggressively.

“Hey, hey! I don’t even know how much you’re aware of. I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

“Did you make a fake village?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because… I… Wanted to give you a family.” Morel sighed.

“So… you would make them all fictional and not tell me? I didn’t even know YOU, my real family!” 

“Oh true… Uh… Any more questions?”

“Why would you pretend to kill off the villagers instead of making them disappear?” 

“That is… Because I needed you to take down the Anti-Drug Troupe. When I get out of here, they can’t hinder my weed.” 

“So you framed them for mass murder? How could you do that?”

“Like I said, the Troupe needed to be taken down!”

“Fake or not… how could you do that to Pairo?! Did you want to traumatize me?” Kurapika was at his breaking point.

“Actually, Pairo was my least favorite. He wasn’t even my OC. You hallucinated him when you accidentally ate shrooms.” Kurapika pulled out a gun.

“You think this is funny? I won’t think twice about what I’m about to do.” 

“Wait! I can give you more details if you want to! Like how your real mother died giving birth to you! And--”

“What the hell?”

“Your day was already ruined.” Morel shrugged.

“You know what, I know what type of dad you are. The kind who says ‘let’s get play hide and seek’ and then runs away from your responsibilities and doesn’t come back for ten years.”

“I swear, I’m not like that!” Kurapika’s hands shook fiercely, finger reluctantly tugging at the trigger. Morel protested, but it was too late. The bullet pierced his skull and the hunter known as Morel was pronounced dead. Kurapika was now a criminal, and used his nen to conceal himself and escape the prison. 

~

Solemnly, Kurapika walked his way back to the Troupe’s hideout, refusing to even use concealment techniques. He knew who he could trust now, whether he wanted to or not. The man named Chrollo welcomed him in, immediately, sitting him down. “So you know the truth,” he said.

“I do.”

“You came back.”

“I did.”

“We actually expected something like this… but you’re going to need to tell us what you wish to accomplish by coming back here.”

“I… would like to join the Troupe.”

“When you sober up, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Sober up… I… Don’t know if I can do that. I don’t want to give up marijuana…” Chrollo cautiously looked over at Hisoka, then back at Kurapika, as if to say to stop talking. But Hisoka stood up with notecards he had prepared ahead of time, and began talking. The whole Troupe sighed. 

“Kurapika, you are light. Sometimes you shine so bright, I ignore the fact that you smoke weed. Even so, I’d love to stay by your side. But not like this.” Hisoka shed a single tear, smearing the teardrop on his face. “I’ve never met someone with such ability to overcome adversity. You are truly special. Please get sober--” Kurapika cut him off.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Hisoka began to tear up. 

~ 

A week had passed by. Kurapika now found normalcy in basic things like eating dinner with the Troupe. Hisoka sat across from him, as he kept constant surveillance to prevent relapsing. The man smiled at him. “Is this your card?” he asked, as he pulled out an eight of hearts. Considering Kurapika chose his card hours prior, this was incredibly odd, but Hisoka had been pulling similar stunts all week.

“I swear I’ve been clean for a week now, how are you doing this?” 

“The same way… I got this,” Hisoka said, as he held up Kurapika’s earing. The younger man pressed a finger to his ear to confirm it was his, and it had been. 

“How are you--”

“The same way I also know there’s a six of spades under your plate.” Kurapika lifted the plate in response to find the card.

“I officially quit.”

“Don’t do that. I’ve done this all to demonstrate one thing.”

“Which is what?”

“Magic can happen without weed.” 

“Or in bed with me,” Chrollo muttered under his breath. The woman named Machi threw her plate at him. Everyone gave Chrollo an accusatory look. “I’m sorry, he’s just… kinda cute when he’s not smoking weed.”

-

Kurapika mustered the strength to talk to Chrollo again. He was done withdrawing from marijuana, and finally felt free from the burden of the Kurta history. He no longer kept anything to remind him of the Kurta clan, and even his eyes were no longer reminiscent of the clan, as they had been red due to excessive drug usage. He finally found the man outside of his room, and knocked. “Chrollo… It’s me.”

“Kurapika. Come in.”

“I… would like to join the Troupe. Officially. I’ve seen what drugs could do to a person and I would like to contribute to the cause before more people get hurt.” 

“Of course you can join,” Chrollo proclaimed with ease.

“Don’t I need to get some sort of spider tattoo? That’s what I heard, anyway.”

“Yes. It’s henna though, tattoos are bad.”

“Oh. That’s not a problem then.” Kurapika sighed in relief.

“I… Just want you to know that I’m proud of you, Kurapika,” Chrollo said happily. “You’ve truly changed.” Kurapika just smiled and walked out, tinged with embarrassment. He was secretly thrilled that people were acknowledging his progress. Just then, he noticed Hisoka leaned up against the wall outside of the room. 

“Kurapika,” Hisoka begun. “There’s one final thing we all must do before we become truly anti-drug.” Kurapika looked at Hisoka in confusion.

“Why hadn’t I heard that there was another step?”

“Because it’s an unspoken rule… that everyone who is anti-drug pours their passions into something else. All you need is one safe escape from life, and you’ll never find a need for drugs. For you… there isn’t an escape. You’ll need to create your own path.” Hisoka paused and looked down at a gum wrapper in his hand. “Did you know, Kurapika? That my nen, bungee gum, has the properties of both rubber and gum? Because of this, I… am always reminded of my favorite gum. And with that, I can feel truly passionate about something, and I know I’ll never need drugs.”

In that moment, Kurapika knew what he would devote his life to… something that no drug could provide: bondage.

**Author's Note:**

> If you can't tell by now, you shouldn't take this fic seriously. Thank you to @kinsdura and @jolanikati on tumblr for your awesome suggestions for this fic!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @kroryy


End file.
